


Commander Humbug

by Kemvee



Category: A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Author will make you cry, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lyrium Withdrawal, Spirits of Satinalia, some gore/violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27817567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kemvee/pseuds/Kemvee
Summary: “Always working!” Max teased as he saw the Commander sat in his usual position. “You know the Chargers are hosting a party right now in the Tavern. You could swing by, let your men see you out of that armor for once?”Cullen was about to refuse but then watched with horror as the Inquisitor procured a dried elfroot wreath from his cloak. Then a hammer. And then a nail and proceeded with no shortage of disruptive banging to affix it to inside of the door.“It is Satinalia after all.” Max said with a wink.“So everyone keeps telling me as I’d never heard of a calendar before,” Cullen scoffed.“To Satinalia I say Bah, Humbug!”---A completely self indulgent re-telling of A Christmas Carol.Starring the workaholic Cullen as Scrooge.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	Commander Humbug

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Satinalia Everyone!
> 
> This is a short story in 4 parts, loosely retelling A Christmas Carol in the world of Thedas.  
> I have taken some authorial liberties, combining characters here and there but I promise to keep the sentiments true to the original.
> 
> I really hope you enjoy my story  
> Kemvee x
> 
> Prompt: Winters Grasp

Meredith was dead, to begin with. There was no doubt whatever about that.

He had been there when her body had crystallized. Consumed by the very tainted core from which she had sought to derive her twisted power.

Despite her death being now three years ago. Despite his new start in the Inquisition. Meredith’s shadow and the lingering impact she had had on his life still loomed.

_ “Tainted by association.” _ Some of the more vocal Mage representatives had complained to the Inquisitor when, upon arriving at Haven from Redcliffe Castle, they had discovered just who their new Military Commander would be.

_ “Murderer.”  _ They said quietly when they thought no one was paying them any attention.

They didn’t need to whisper. His failings were well documented and keenly felt by none more so than Cullen himself.

It didn’t matter that he had left the order and was trying desperately to cease his Lyrium use. To them he was just another Templar patrolling, another face of the oppression they had suffered. The younger ones were scared of him. He saw that fear when he walked the corridors of Skyhold or reviewed their perimeter along the battlements. It shamed him.

“To Work.” He would say to himself when their guarded stares gave him cause to doubt.

Work was his penance. Work was his salvation. Work kept the gnawing guilt just within check. And most importantly of all gave him something to focus on when the effects of his Lyrium withdrawals proved too much.

Today was such a day. He hadn’t slept well, had barely eaten. He had stormed through the Grand Hall with all bitterness and disdain a days long migraine could inflict upon his persona. 

Even the fawning nobility who usually tried to draw him into conversation steered clear. 

Cullen cared not for their good opinion. His only concern, the all consuming drive that woke him at dawn and kept him motivated till well after dark was their survival.

The Inquisition had to succeed. There would be no peace for him till then.

“To Work.” He ordered his officers gruffly as the latest orders were distributed. He expected the same high standards in them that he set for himself. They filed out after offering their salutes, then, with grimace of discomfort, Cullen was seated. He began to review the next in a seemingly never ending pile of reports, when a throat was cleared politely.

“What is it?” Cullen snapped, offering nothing more than a cautioning glance to the man still stood before him. It was unusual for his Captain to linger in the office after a meeting, especially when there was so much to be done. 

Rylen gave a crisp salute “Commander, Ser. Tomorrow is Satinalia day the men were… that is, I would like for them to have the day off.”

Cullen’s quill stopped moving mid word, a large dark ink spot formed where the still nib now bled onto the parchment. 

“The day off?” Culled said. Quiet despite his incredulousness at the request.

“Aye Ser, To give them time to write to their families, take some rest and join in any festivities.”

Cullen stood to his feet, ignoring the wave of nausea that greeted him. Today’s Lyrium withdrawals were the most acute he had felt since that first painful detox months ago. He was sure then he would throw himself into the waking sea, now a fall from the Undercroft sounded equally tempting. It left his temper unusually frayed.

“Do you think Corypheus cares that it is Satinalia?” He asked angrily. His second in command wisely stayed silent.

“Do you think that will stop him from marching up the mountain just as sure as he descended upon us at Haven?”

“No Ser, but it’s tradition.”

“ _ Tradition _ .” Cullen mocked as he stepped out from behind his desk to retrieve his throwing knives. Standing by his bookshelf he took aim. 

“If the men are writing they are not working.”

_ Thud _ . The first knife landed in the dummy.

“Meredith was wrong about a lot of things but on this she was absolutely correct.” 

_ Thud _ . “Only diligence.” 

_ Thud _ . “And daily training will keep our men sharp.”

_ Thud _ . “It will keep them alive! Do you understand?”

The former Knight-Captain held his hands up in supplication “Aye, aye. I know Ser. And you know I agree with you. But it’s just  _ one day _ .”

As Cullen ripped the embedded blades from his target he considered, and prayed.  _ Just one day? Andraste please don’t permit me to regret this. _

“Very well.”

“Thank you Commander!” Rylen saluted, then promptly fled the office before his superior could change his mind.

Cullen had only just sat back down to start his reading anew when -

“Happy Satinalia’s Eve Commander!” Came the cheery and unmistakable voice of the Inquisitor.

“Maker’s Breath can’t a man work!”

The young and exuberant Maxwell Trevelyan, had thrown his door open wide and greeted his friend in his usual effervescent demeanor. A blustery gust of cold wind disturbed the papers on the Commander’s desk and fluffed the fur of his mantle.

“Close the door man.” Cullen shouted when he saw the snowflakes decorating the Mage’s robes, hair and now his floor.

“Always working!” Max teased as he saw the Commander sat in his usual position. “You know the Chargers are hosting a party right now in the Tavern. You could swing by, let your men see you out of that armor for once.” 

Cullen was about to refuse but then watched with horror as the Inquisitor procured a dried elfroot wreath from his cloak. Then a hammer. And then a nail,  _ what else has he got under there! _ And proceeded with no shortage of disruptive banging to affix it to inside of the door. 

“It is Satinalia after all.” Max said with a wink.

“So everyone keeps telling me as I’d never heard of a calendar before,” Cullen scoffed.

“To Satinalia I say Bah, Humbug!”

Trevelyan laughed “Oh Commander, you’re so grumpy.” Cullen felt his scarred lip twitch in amusement despite himself. He really was fond of their leader and not only because he was one of the few Mages who seemed to look past his...well... past as a former Templar. The Inquisitor possessed a confident and approachable air that made him popular with the common folk and nobles alike. No one was too grand, or too humble to resist his charming personality. 

It was a persona that Cullen could never hope to replicate. His formative years, spent in the military mindset of the Templars, had left his self confidence somewhat lacking when it came to any matter not pertaining to strategy, logistics or scripture. The few friends he did have assured him that he was enough, that his dry, dark humor and Fereldan straightforwardness were appreciated. But he felt at a disadvantage compared to his other, more politically of theologically minded friends.

That, combined with the added pressures of the festive season to be jolly and merry and  _ festive _ . Cullen couldn't even think of the word without sneering. The war didn’t stop just because some astrologer Ages ago had deemed this week to have more significance than the rest of the year. Did no one realize that but him? Well, all in all it had made his characteristic unapproachability even more severe.

A raucous laughter rose from the courtyard and Cullen shuddered. His friend saw all.

“Perhaps the tavern is a little rowdy.” He said sympathetically as he now dressed the Satinalia wreath with a bright red ribbon. “ But how about this evening. I have planned a small Satinalia supper, just for the Advisors and possibly Dorian too.” Cullen didn’t miss the faint blush on Max’s cheeks. “I know you are good friends with all of them and they would appreciate seeing you away from a desk.”

Cullen refused of course. “No thank you, I would much rather work.”

“Don’t make me order you.” Trevelyan said with good humor, but there may have been just a hint of a plea in his superiors eyes.

A stalemate ensued. Then, as if not willing to disappoint an eager puppy Cullen gave way. 

Reluctantly “If my work permits me-”

“Yes!” Max clapped his hands with excitement. “It starts at 7pm. My Quarters. See you then Commander!”

* * *

Cullen rubbed at his tired eyes. A plate of half eaten food was pushed to the edge of his desk. He had sent for it hours ago when it became apparent that he wouldn’t be able to attend the Advisors supper. He hoped Maxwell wouldn't be too disappointed. His work, although a balm to his soul, was also imperative for him, for them,  _ for the Inquisition. _

Outside he heard the watch guard ring the bell twelve times. 

Cullen yawned. He could work twenty-four hours a day and it would never be enough, there was always something more but now. Now he was tired.

He dragged himself heavily up his ladder and with methodical movements stripped away his armor, placing it on a stand in the corner of his loft. Now just in linen sleep trousers and white undershirt Cullen shivered. He usually ran so warm that the cold didn't bother him, but the snow that had continued to fall throughout the day had chilled the air more than usual. It would be okay, he would warm up soon enough under his blanke-

_ “Hello Cullen.” _

An eerie voice whispered into his ear. Cullen jolted at the noise, stumbled away from it and could scarcely believe his eyes.

“No. You’re dead!”

_ "Of co urse I am.” _ Meredith smiled. Her eyes, once as blue as a frozen lake, were now red concave sockets that glowed eerily in the dim light of his chamber. His former Knight Commander, the woman who had honed him into the unfeeling weapon of the Gallows was dead by her own admission. Yet there she was.

Her armor, which was once highly shined, had become dulled and rusted. Her blonde hair and golden crown which seemed like a halo in the sun had turned ashen, limp and tarnished. Her skin was so white it almost seemed transparent save for the red, pulsating crystals which marred her skin where her veins ought to be. She smiled a dead, chilling smile.

Cullen’s heart thundered in his chest. Despite his shock and the turmoil of his emotions at seeing her here, his rational brain sought to comprehend.

“Y-you aren’t real.” Cullen hypothesized. “You are a symptom of my withdrawals. a vision, a horror just like those I see in my dreams.” He turned away from haunting visage and scrubbed his face with the freezing cold water in his wash basin. He hissed as the chilled droplets, burned his tired eyes and dripped an icy path down his neck.

When he turned back, Meredith was gone.

Cullen gave a ragged sigh and pushed his still wet hand through his previously neatened curls. “Thank the Maker” he gasped, the fear that had gripped him, receded as quickly as it had appeared.

“ _ Knight Captain _ .” Came the echoing voice, he felt dread flood him as a chilled hand touched his shoulder. 

“No!” Cullen launched himself to his armor stand on instinct. His hand reached desperately for his sword but his arm was suddenly restrained. Chains, as cold as Winter’s Grasp prevented him from reaching his blessed weapon.

_ “I’m sure I trained you better than to turn your back on an intruder.” _

“Not, real. You are not real!” With a snarl Cullen ripped his hand from the frigid binding. He withdrew his sword from its sheath, spun expertly and with a triumphant shout ran her through her cold dead heart.

Meredith seemed shocked. The red sockets of her eyes stared into his furious amber glare, before they narrowed in twisted humor.

_ “Foolish boy.” _ She laughed and fling wide her arms. Chains, more of them this time and all as freezing to the touch now wrapped around his legs, his wrists his throat. They burned where they touched his skin, his weapon that was in his grip now dropped to the floor, useless.

Meredith approached with her gleaming red sword. Cullen knew now what that was. _ Red Lyrium. _

_ “You should join me Knight-Captain.”  _ She raised the blighted weapon.  _ “So many of your fellow Templars have, your diligence would be rewarded with us.” _

“I will never side with you demon.” Cullen spat back, conviction in every word.

_ “Yet you did before. And now you toil with equal conviction while those about you are frivolous with their time." _

The Demon, or vision was raking through his mind. Pulling apart his thoughts and tainting them with hate.

_ Yes. I know there is a formidable Templar in you Knight-Captain.” _ She leveled the blade at his chest pushing the blunted tip against his sternum.  _ “Accept us and we can crush the Mages together. Starting with your false-prophet Inquisitor.” _

Cullen braced himself but his convection did not waiver, not for an instant. “Never. I am not a Templar any longer!”

Meredith scoffed  _ “So be it!” _

As she readied her arm to run him through a dagger suddenly appeared. It was protruding through her throat. 

The iced chains which held him captive vanished. There was no blood but an abominable shriek of horror rung out into the night. Meredith, or the ghost of her at least, wrinkled and withered before his eyes. Then turned to ash, then dust, then nothing. Pale grey eyes shined in the darkness.

“You were loud. I came to help.” Said the young man now standing in her place. His large floppy hat swayed in the breeze from the chambers skylight.

“T-thank, thank you Cole.” Cullen said before falling to his knees in a wretched heap.

He had gotten used to the headaches, the nausea, fever and dreams. But Hallucinations, that was a new cruelty. And for it to be Meredith. Meredith a reminder of his worst failings… _ It wasn’t real. _ Cullen rationalized. He would take some rest and then he would get back to work. He had to work. Work was the only way he would regain his mind.

Cole tilted his head, as if hearing voices. He looked down to where Cullen now sat, shivering slightly.

“They want to help too.”

“They- Who?”

“They’re very old. And very wise. Three spirits in all.”

Cullen blanched “Cole, no. No more Spirits or Demons or visitations I beg you!”

Cole looked down at him, his expression unreadable. “You should heed them Commander.”

“Cole!” Cullen panicked.

“Expect the first Spirit when the bells toll for one.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm creating this story using prompts from the Tumblr '12 days of Satinalia event'  
> You can check out the details here.
> 
> https://the-smut-coven.tumblr.com/post/635970015088295936/the-coven-are-back-to-spread-some-festive-cheer
> 
> See you all for part 2 soon!


End file.
